


An Unnamed Love.

by lemonlawlarry



Category: No Fandom, OC - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-08
Updated: 2017-05-08
Packaged: 2018-10-29 17:01:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10858266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lemonlawlarry/pseuds/lemonlawlarry
Summary: It's a gay mob story okay?DISCLAIMER - THIS IS A DRAFT PIECE, SORRY THAT IT IS TERRIBLE, IT REALLY NEEDS TO BE POLISHED (◡‿◡✿)





	1. Assassination.

Music poured into their bodies like a poison, it showed them how to dance. But Piero seemed immune to this form of the drug and continued to pull his partially dead body through the dance floor. Piero was a regular sight in the bar, due to his family name being smeared across it's walls, but he was usually so good at hiding the blood stains. Their motions continued but slower and they began to take up less space. He swore at the door before entering, letting his thick accent take the air hostage.

"You said, Aurelio, you said it..." he was cut of by a swift motion from his grandfather. He sat up straight, his fingers now clasping at the paper in front of him, reading the same three words. They clung to his wrists, pulling themselves closer to his chest. Nestling for warmth, feeding off him, draining him of everything. But Aurelio had been doing this for far too long. "Acerbi blood has been drawn tonight, I may have said there would be no conflict at the deal but Acerbi's always win, so I beg of you, my son, what is this?" He stood from his seat, calmly turning the paper for Piero to see. He didn't need to read it.

ACERBI MOB DESTROYED. 

Family was everything in this lifestyle. You cheat on your wife, a betrayal on your family. You swear at your father, a betrayal on your family. You breath in the wrong side of town, a betrayal on your family. Family was everything in a mob, especially if you were Italian.

"Me and my boys, w-we weren't expecting it, they had guns, they beat us to a pulp, I didn't mean for him to get hurt." Aurelio was a man of great pride and being calm at every corner no matter how rough it got was his greatest skill. "He did not get hurt, your cousin got murdered, you let this happen." By this point, he was leant forward slightly, prodding at the paper. His long thin body replicated his wirey grey hair. You could see the experience melted onto his exhausted features, the boss of a big mob like the Acerbi's was expected to be reasonably large in size, smoking cigars with black, grease-ridden hair. But Aurelio was one of the biggest mob bosses in town. Well, besides Ignacio. And Piero was lucky for a calm grandfather, that was the truth. Ignacio had started this, and he was sixty two. Salvatore's granfather was the complete opposite of his own.

The thing about this feud was that it wasn't born in 200AD, it was born a year prior. When the Marchetti's arrived. They immediately stirred trouble, Ignacio would buy out all of the best cigars and wines. But Aurelio was a smart man, he stood back, he showed no retaliation. The Marchetti's landed in the paper's - the classiest family in town. But if you turn the page, there Aurelio stood, pasta straight from Bologna, cigars pulled from the depths of Tivoli, wine from the city of love. And from then on the feud built.

Yet somehow, in the midst of the fighting, Piero fell in love.

"Is there anything, anything I can do?" Piero has noticed the worried look on his face, he wanted to fix this but he knew his grandfather would always be looking out for his family. But now the Acerbi numbers were down. "No, no, you are still young, your hair still holds colour and your skin shows where you have not yet been loved, this is my fault. Rest."

You didn't need to tell Piero twice. He nodded at his grandfather, he leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on the back of his hand. He did love his family, despite their lack of smiles. The door was pulled open, by an invisible man, well, not exactly invisible, but his presence did not affect Piero one bit. The music was louder now, he caught the eye of his younger brother eating pickles by the door. He gave a wave but sprinted through it. He had no time to chat. He had an angry Italian mobster to meet, in the pouring ran. How romantic.


	2. Salvatore.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Still kinda gay.

Piero always heard him before he saw him. One turning head made hardly any noise, but twenty? That kind of noise ricocheted along the street. Yet in such an empty room, Piero felt Salvatores loose curles nudging his cheek before actually seeing him. It pulled two reactions out of Piero. The only one that Salvatore felt was the shove, forceful and angry. He took a shaky breath, trying to pull the confused look from his face. "I didn't know he would do that, you have to believe me, Ignacio is out of control, I am so sorry." Despite none of this boiling down to Salvatore's burning anger, he still pulled the blame tight to his chest, closer than he'd ever be to Piero. He shook his head and took another two steps back from Salvatore, his blood felt stiff and it caused his body to ache. "No, no, no listen to me before you start this fucking guilt trip... I realised that I can't actually do this, I have a wife that i," he paused to release his breath, his lungs felt like they were iron clad, "a wife that i love, I have a family name to uphold and I can't be dealing with whatever this is." His hands made the expected movements for an italian, if not a bit shaky, his rings clanked together as he pulled his hands towards one another behind his back. 

"Yikes! Your life seems so hard! You have to chose between a handsome cripple you're in love with or a curvy french woman that makes nice pie! Damn that's a hard choice, oh wait, no it isnt, Piero, you don't actually love her, but once again you're covering for your fucking family, the prized Acerbi blood can't be stained with a dick up your ass!" Salvatore was calm once again and would be damned if he took one single word back, in his mind it was all about keeping the family name clean and pristine. But Ignacio had barely been in town for ten minutes and the Acerbi family had already lost two members. His grandfather was very much the essence of the mob lifestyle, so Salvatore understood that being anything but straight would dump him right out into the gutter. The myth that mob families stuck together made sense before gay people stopped taking heterosexual bullshit, that's how Salvatore saw it anyway, his family were nothing but his foot stool. 

Piero's family was his backbone, and walking around spineless for a gay italian hipster was not an option. He would much rather brush his homoerotic tendencies under the carpet. "It's not just blood, it's family, it's love, it's a bond, not that you would have ever felt any of those things. And don't fucking play the disabled card, we both know this has nothing to do with your leg." By this point Salvatore was full blown laughing, he couldn't believe his ears. The nights he'd gotten calls, calls depicting the violent homophobia strangling Piero's dainty frame. But now his family was perfect, of course it was.

"Listen, sweetie, I'll put down my blue badge whereever the fuck I want," Salvatore was gaining on Piero now, but Piero made no attempt to escape, he stood, captivated "and don't act like I don't know love, I can show you love, if you really want me to?"

Piero wasn't too sure how to react, he always knew how to react to Salvatore, but this was new. He knew he'd lost the argument when his fingers reached up to graze Salvatore's jaw. He pulled them down to reach his lips, he'd melted into Salvatore's lips so many times that it was all he could dream about. All he could think about. Piero was roughly half a foot shorter than Salvatore, yet Piero was still above average height. Salvatore tilted down as Piero pulled himself up using his broad shoulders. This was love.


	3. Fires.

The entire of their house was dull, the only exception was the front room, that also happened to be the kitchen, because for reasons that Piero couldn't understand, a house with no walls was glamourous. Piero just felt like he was living in a bleached mud hut, with an overrated fish tank. Some form of dance music pumped into the front room and Cecilia spun, on point, falling onto her left leg at the front door being shoved, hard, errupting the dormant house into a state of pure fear.

"What the fuck's up with you?" Piero ignored her, pouring out some orange juice and gulping it down all at once. Cecilia made some comments about Piero being a true thug, but he ignored those also. Piero ignored most of Cecilia's existance, despite her ability to make him laugh at every instance. 

"Okay, go on then, I'm ready to be mocked." She rolled her eyes and pushed his forehead back a little with her index finger, he'd been stressed beyond belief and seeing him so disgruntled everyday drained her. She just wanted to be loved. "What if I'm not in the mood to mock your blood stained chanel coat? Listen you may look like a jelly covered bean sprout but that's okay, bean sprouts have feelings too." 

He half smiled throwing the glass into the sink, expecting a smash he scrunched his eyes but nothing came of it. He turned and she stood staring at him, her eyes seemed vacant. She held the glass and placed it on the side, her smile tore open her dull features. It was only now that he noticed her.

"Cece, what do I do to fix this?"

To say that silence is eerie is an understatement. She sat on the stool next to him, elbows on her knees and her legs spread out slightly. He'd been ignoring her since he had met Salvatore but now he found himself tearing up just looking at her. Her sunken in eyes showed how much she missed sleep and her lips cracked and seemed to crumble apart right in front of him. Yet he still saw beauty in her, she was falling apart right then and there but he still hung her up in the Louvre. He wiped the tears from his face before reaching for hers.

"This wasn't what I meant when i said I'm salty." He shook his head, he wanted to kiss her, and not in a romantic way, just in an I love you way. But he couldn't. She wanted to kiss him too, but not in a romantic way, or in an I love you,  but in a You're all I have way. The truth is, he did love her, she did love him. Sometimes your best just isn't good enough. He could try to talk to her but she would have  mocked him for sounding like a goldfish out of water. "I've loved you since we were nine, i didn't love you from the beginning, mainly because I thought you were a lesbian, but when I saw you punch a three year old in the leg, I knew." 

"First of all, you sound like my mother, second of all, my mother's dead and she can make me laugh more than you can." Piero never knew how to react to her but that was the fascination, she wasn't just a girl, she was a dot to dot gone wrong, a rain cloud on a sunny day, a punch in the fucking leg. Piero loved her, but not with his heart, with his head, and that just wouldn't fit. 

"We can't fix this, can we?" Cecilia had never said anything in such a way. Even while saying their vows she giggled. "I don't even know what's wrong, I see house fires every fucking day, I can't breath for at least twenty hours a week, but twelve years of being in love with you burnt me more than any fire did." She pulled her hand back from the scar crawling up her right leg. 

He couldn't even picture being without her, maybe they weren't even in love, maybe it was just the routine. He thought this but said nothing. Nothing needed to be said. He didn't think so, anyway. He wiped his face with a tissue and blew his nose while handing her one. She pulled it from him, nodding. She seemed to be thinking, he'd had a rough day and decide that after being grilled by his own grandad, angrily making out with a rival and crying with his wife, he was ready for bed. He nearly made it around the corner to the spare room when he heard Cecilia sobbing. He paused.

"I know you're fucking Salvatore."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I fancy Cece a bit.


	4. Grease.

He never saw her in the morning, which he was thankful for. She was an early riser, up and ready by six am, fighting fires was a full time job. Whereas he was the opposite, if you could drag him out of bed before midday it was a miracle. Yet, Piero knew her whole routine. She was definitely a talker, all she did was talk, half of the time about pointless things like her entire morning routine. But if Piero even hinted at her opening up, she went quiet. That was just how she was.

Piero stood up and checked his watch. 10:52 am. He sighed, she would by now. Well, she should have been out by now. So her presence at the kitchen island was a shock to him. She peered down into her tea. There was no steam and the cup was full, she appeared to have been there for a while.

"You're usually out before seven?" It wasn't really a question, just phrased like one, he figured that after last night's events, small talk was necessary. But her response was merely "day off". He pulled up a stool so he could sit across from her. He tried to convince her that he had had a day off too, but after four years of being a mob wife, she did not fall for it. "Okay, well I'm going out for a walk to Alfresco's, would you like anything?" His words were elongated and took up more room than they needed to. It left the room feeling cramped and left him out of breath. She shook her, a small movement as the words began to choke her. He convinced himself that she needed this. Space. She needed this. 

By the time he had changed and gone out it was half past eleven, and his visit to Alfresco's was more of a meet up. He ordered a latte and told the waitor to get any pizza to share. Ignacio was not picky. His stature screamed that, but he didn't seem to care, he was a millionaire and married a beautiful Spanish wife just last year. He had had seven children and all of them were handsome and rich. They all had their own children, one of which was Salvatore. 

The pizza came after ten minutes and he sipped his latte. Ignacio was late. Piero began to panic, he took a slice of pizza into his shaky hands before placing it back and ordering some shots. He poured the vodka into his latte and swirl it round, taking another sip. He would be okay. 

The bell rang. A new customer. He took deep breaths that sounded wheezy, he was struggling. Maybe all of the Marchetti's could be heard before they were seen. But Piero has no time to be witty. Ignacio took a seat across from Piero. He leaned back raising one eyebrow. The sweat on his forehead was stagnant, like a frozen lake, if he looked hard enough, Piero was sure he could see fish. Ignacio lit a cigar, smoking was banned in Alfresco's but somehow, he knew that Ignacio was the only exception. 

"You seem to be good friends with my grandson, that better dissipate by the end of today. Tell Aurelio to do his own dirty work, and not send some weed to clear up his mess." He leaned forward, folding a slice of pizza with one hand. He stood from the booth to leave before Piero stood up too. 

"No. Sit down." Piero demanded, he had never sounded so dominant. They both sat back down, Ignacio took a bite of his pizza and threw the rest of the slice back down onto the plate. He had an abundance of rings on his right hand, it made his punches harder, they left impressions only Ignacio could make. He wore a lightened tattoo on his wrist. It spelled war, but Piero ignored it, he was trying too hard to be the tough guy.

"I don't have friends as such. And my grandfather doesn't need some greasy white man telling him what to do. He can get that for free practically anywhere," Ignacio attempted to reply but was shut down immediately "I'm not done. I don't want a fight. I need my family. Can you not just kiss and make up already?" 

The head of the Marchetti mob didn't really seem happy with this. Piero prepared for a large speech about being a child or something just as done. But he simply leant over and took a sip of Piero's latte. He could taste it, he seemed pleased with himself. "You're terrified... You don't want to fight aw, poor you. You need a good kick up the ass. The world isnt as nice as you think it is. And neither is your family." 

Ignacio seemed pleased with himself, Piero couldn't really grasp why. Nothing had been accomplished, nothing. The tabloids would have a field day with this. But Piero couldn't give a shit, he was just desperate to understand their rival.

"Also, not to pry or anything but, did it ever occur to you that, well, Aurelio isn't really innocent?" Ignacio stood from his seat, he was undoubtably leaving, Piero didn't care enough to stop him. Before he left, Ignacio Marchetti felt he hadn't done enough damage, so instead of just leaving, he said "you know that he payed to get your cousin killed, right?"


End file.
